Wicked: Elphaba's Ever After
by Raine0211
Summary: This is the continued story of the Wicked Witch of the West. In Gregory Maguire's 'Wicked' we discover the life and times of the Wicked Witch. In this story, we are told the story of her after life, the one that no Ozian will ever learn. Chapter 1 up
1. Prologue: The End

I have quoted several lines directly from the book, _Wicked_, by Gregory Maguire. They will be bolded. Otherwise, this is my interpretation of her end based on Maguire's conception of the Witch…and perhaps beyond.

**_Prologue: The End_**

            **"Oh, will this nightmare never _end_," screamed Dorothy, and she grabbed at a bucket for collecting rainwater that, in the sudden flare-up of light, had come into view. She said, "I will save you!" and she hurtled the water at the Witch.**

**An instant of sharp pain before the numbness.** The numbness shielded the Witch from the truths of her quickly deteriorating physical state. Droplets of water clung to her green skin and burned through it as easily as acid would wood. Dorothy gasped, stricken at the sight. The water continued its deadly work, eating through the Wicked Witch's tender flesh which charred jade, then black, and curled before falling away like ash. Elphaba's dark, liquid brown eyes rolled back in her head as she lost control of her body and fell heavily to her knees. The girl with the checkered blue and white dress and stolen red shoes tried to shriek in horror but the words were caught in the bile that rose from her stomach at the gory sight of the green woman dying. Horror gripped her as she realized that she was a murderess and that she would never be able to be forgiven for killing the Witch's sister…or the Witch herself.

            "Please, no! I didn't know, you must know! I didn't want to kill anybody! I'm sorry," Dorothy cried desperately, shrinking away from the shriveling body but Elphaba heard not a word. The Wicked Witch's skin had now been burned away and the water worked on the delicate webbing of veins and sound musculature.

            Dorothy threw up on the cobblestones, gripping her weakening stomach as it emptied.

            Elphaba, on the other hand, was oblivious to the terrors and pain that wracked her body as flashbacks of her life played out in her agile mind. Images of her childhood: Melena, her licentious mother; Frex, her zealous father-figure (she didn't want to remember how the Wizard, the truly wicked man who had ruined her life, was really her father); and Turtle Heart, her parents' lover who had made her a glass ball and had been the first to accept the green-skinned girl, despite the fact that she had vicious teeth. Not even her parents had done that.

            Her years at Shiz University: she'd met Glinda who ultimately turned on her, thinking more of her popularity than of her old friend. Boq, who was her first true friend and who stayed that way despite her horrid treatment of him. The rest of her friends at Shiz, those who helped her research for her professor and those who didn't care what color her skin happened to be. Dr. Dillamond, the Animal who'd been brutally murdered. And Madame Morrible, who she'd finally "murdered" thirty years after university to capture the wicked Wizard's attention (and for revenge in Dr. Dillamond's name because Elphaba knew Madame Morrible killed him).

            The years she spent in hiding in the Emerald City, silently combating the Wizard in a silent, but deadly, terrorist faction, fighting the Wizard who threatened the lifestyles of the sentient Animals (not animals) and the Munchkinlanders who merely wanted independence.

            Elphaba's mind then faltered, dreading to relieve the re-appearance of one person into her life and so it skipped, like a record, to her years in the Maunt where she recovered from mysterious injuries and sickness brought about by the loss of that one person before striking out on a journey in search of forgiveness. Pictures of her adventures in Vinkus came to her in flashes: the boy Liir, her faithful dog Killjoy, befriending the elephant princess and finally meeting her lover's wife, Sarima, and his family. From Sarima she desired only one thing: forgiveness.

            Then, remembrance of her reunion with her sister Nessa after Elphaba learned to fly on her broom brought only pain as Nessa had become even more religiously fanatical than their father, who'd always preferred Elphaba's armless sister. The cold realization of this truth plagued the Witch who escaped back to Sarima's castle, only to find her and her family captured and gone. She was unable to save them. This fact greatly troubled her although she hid it well. They, too, had become special to the now solitary Wicked Witch and their loss had been another blow to her well-being…and her sanity. She would never get the forgiveness she desired for causing the death of her lover, Sarima's husband.

            During the ensuing years she lived only with two people: one of whom was too senile to show any true affection, Nanny, and one who could care less if she lived or died, Liir. She remembered how she'd sunken into herself, her only earthly comfort being her familiars: the dogs, the bees and the monkeys to whom she'd graciously given wings. She'd known that her behavior had become more irrational and erratic, but she didn't care. The world, the Wizard and his vile green potion, and even her own family had turned on her, making her life miserable for reasons she could not fathom and so she turned their back on them.

            Her sister's death, by means of a falling house, was merely another shock to the quaking foundation of Elphaba's sanity. The girl, the one who now stood crying and gagging over the hallucinating Witch's writhing and smoking body, had killed her. Unintentionally perhaps, but nonetheless had killed her. To add salt to the would, Glinda, her once faithful friend and roommate, had given the shoes promised to her by the now-deceased sister to the ignorant farmer girl who wore them without realization of their sentimental or political value. And now, by order of the Wizard who had started it all, her miserable life in which she was trapped in green skin, Dorothy was to kill her.

            Elphaba knew that the way she'd first treated the girl when she'd breached her castle had been atrocious, but she could hardly bring herself to care because she'd gone mad from the pain of loss. The girl and her friend's had unwittingly killed off her familiars, taking away the last things in her life that she'd come to care for. The Wizard had ordered the deaths of or influenced the deaths of many people in her life and was to be the cause of many more. He'd taken the one person who loved her without a second thought; the one person whose reappearance in her life was too painful to remember; the one person who'd she'd allowed herself to hope was in the ridiculous little girl's party under guise as the scarecrow; the one person who she'd finally accepted as dead, but not before his disappearance all those years ago had finally broken her, leaving her susceptible to all the other ills that befell her at the hand of the wicked Wizard.

            _'Fiyero… Fiyero, I still love you, you idiot boy, after all these years. I told you to leave when you'd first found me in the __Emerald__City__, but you didn't because you loved me. Why did you have to love me? You stayed…and never left. The Wizard had it out for me and I knew he would hurt you if he found you…and he did,'_ the Witch thought of her lost lover, Sarima's husband. _'It's my fault you're gone. What did I ever do to deserve you? I wish you were here…I miss you. Forgive me.'_

            And now, as the water like acid ate through the last of her pink, bloody muscles the Wicked Witch of the West snapped back to reality, briefly, her dark eye (for the other had already crumbled in its socket, decimated by the water) focusing on the pathetic sight before her, she felt pity for the girl just as the girl felt for her. If she'd had the strength, or the muscles with which to perform the task, she would have laughed at the irony of the situation: both of them desired forgiveness, and neither would ever get it. She felt hollow, as she had for a long time, but now her physical state mirrored it as her insides dissolved under the power of the water leaving her ribs protecting nothing but air. Then, they too collapsed.

            _'Such is life. I'm glad for the end,'_ the Witch thought sadly as she felt the firm grip of death upon her before slipping away into the warm arms of the Goddess who carried her soul (for the Witch did have one, despite her doubts) to the heavens. Her life in Oz had ended, brutally and painfully, but her soul would go on although she hadn't wanted it to. The pain of one life, she'd thought, was enough to last for an eternity and she didn't want the guarantee of eternal life that possessing a soul gave. Another wish of the Witch's gone awry.

            Dorothy watched in terror, the bile once again rising in her raw throat as the naked eye of the Wicked Witch whom she'd been sent to kill, focused on her, terrible and beautiful all at once. The pain of her life was apparent in that one last, bitter and laughing gaze. Then the Witch crumbled into ash like a log on a fire, leaving only the hat that she wore which would later become a symbol of the Witch's wickedness. But Dorothy knew better. She could see that the Wicked Witch of the West was not who she seemed, but she would never be able to prove it, nor know the truth of her life.

            "Elphaba!" Liir cried as he, the Lion and the irritating Toto barreled into the room. He rushed towards the pile of ashes which had begun to blow away in the wind of the cold, dank tower. He glanced wide-eyed with horror from the pointy black hat to Dorothy and back.

            "She's dead?!"

            "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just trying to put the fire out," Dorothy breathed hoarsely as her stomach lurched again.

_            'The Witch had a name! A name! Elphaba…Elphaba…What have I done?!'_ Dorothy thought desperately, clawing at her eyes. _'I'm sorry, Elphaba!'_

            Liir stared at the remains of the Witch with mixed feelings. She'd never been particularly kind to him, but neither had she neglected him. Her death troubled him, but he put it behind him.

            "She'll be happier this way. She was a miserable creature. Her life had driven her mad, obviously. I'm glad I wasn't her," Liir announced before taking Dorothy's hand and leading her back to the Emerald City, but not before she grabbed a green vial off the shelf to show proof that she'd been to the Witch's castle. What she didn't know was that the vial and the Wizard had begun the bittersweet (mostly bitter) life of the Wicked Witch of the West whose life was now mercifully over.

            The Witch's life story ends here. It is over and done with and in Oz, the only thing that lived was the warped stories of her life. But it no longer concerned her. The Wicked Witch is dead.

            **In the life of a Witch, there is no _after_, in the _ever after_ of a Witch, there is no _happily;_ in the story of a Witch, there is no afterword. Of that part that is beyond the life story, beyond the story of the life, there is –alas, or perhaps thank mercy—no telling. She was dead, dead and gone, and all that was left of her was the carapace of her reputation for malice.**

            Ok, this is my first fanfic. I normally write on fictionpress but I really loved this book and needed to find answers to the many unanswered questions Maguire left at the end of it. Soooo, I made them up. :-D. Whether they are what he intended or not, I dunno, but they make me happy. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!

 Lisa


	2. Chapter 1: The Soul

Before I write I want to thank my three reviewers. I want to let everyone know that yes, I know about the musical 'Wicked' for I am a huge musical freak. It's opening cast stared 3 of my favorite Broadway actors and only one is left on Broadway at present. sobs But oh well, its still a great show.

**Sapphire Stone:** My first reviewer! Thank you dear. I'm glad it didn't come out too badly. Tell me what you really think about this chapter because it determines whether or not I will keep writing. I'm not sure how this is turning out as of yet.

**Violet Rush:** I don't know of anymore Wicked fics, but, if you don't know the differences between the book and the musical I can explain them to you because I know both very well. Thanks for your review. I'll keep my eyes peeled for more fics.

**Depressedheartbrokensoul****:** Yes, I love the musical, I've been following it for quite a while, but since I live in Florida I can't see it. Kristin Chenoweth and Norbert Leo Butz have already left the cast :'( But I wish I could see it now. I've been listening to the soundtrack forever. I was singing along at the Tony's. Defying Gravity is such a great song although I was disappointed that Kristin didn't get to sing more, cause she had a few more lines to sing. Oh well. Anyway, haven't heard of anymore wicked fics, but if I find any I'll let you know. Thanks for your review.

****

**_Recap from 'Prologue: The End'_**

The Witch's life story ends here. It is over and done with and in Oz, the only thing that lived was the warped stories of her life. But it no longer concerned her. The Wicked Witch is dead.

**In the life of a Witch, there is no _after_, in the _ever after_ of a Witch, there is no _happily;_ in the story of a Witch, there is no afterword. Of that part that is beyond the life story, beyond the story of the life, there is –alas, or perhaps thank mercy—no telling. She was dead, dead and gone, and all that was left of her was the carapace of her reputation for malice.**

**_Chapter 1: The Soul_**

            Or is there no telling? Not for the denizens for Oz, that is a certainty. To them, most of them that is, she is nothing but a bad memory. Those who remember her know the truth but do not tell. Elphaba would not have wanted it and Ozians would not have believed them if they tried.

But that is beside the point. Her earthly story is over and, perhaps unmercifully, the story of her afterlife begins.

One of Elphaba's many errors in life was to ignore the pull of the otherworldly, refusing to believe in what she couldn't see, as pragmatic as her father, Frex, was religious. She, as a rule, refused to believe in the possibility of an otherworld and on a personal level, she never believed that she had a soul. What she thought she possessed, whether a life spirit, a Tiktoc heart, or an inner nothingness, we will never know. But what we do know, which is the purpose of this story, is that she was wrong.

Elphaba, daughter of the Wizard of Oz and the unfaithful Melena, had a soul.

            Her lungs burned like acid and she felt like she was drowning although she was kneeling on all fours on the cold, stone floor. Flinging an arm out and clawing at the air, her mouth swung open and shut like a fish out of water, desperately trying to inhale. She could feel her lungs collapsing in on themselves as they were deprived of oxygen. Suddenly, a rush of air flew down her lungs and her brown eyes shot open, not heeding the brightness of the light streaming peacefully in through her tower window. A long-fingered, slightly pale green hand clutched at her chest as her body shook with the effort to breathe. Her chest heaved in its attempts to consume as much of the life-giving substance as possible. Sputtering, she collapsed onto her belly, her pointed black cap falling to the floor and rolling to a stop a few feet away.

For a few moments she lay prone on the chilling stones and let the life seep back into her body. Only then did she realize that she did not feel pain, her green skin was still green and not charred and the annoying farm girl was no where to be found.

An eerie silence draped itself over the room like a funeral shroud, punctuated only by her heavy breathing. A chill crept up every vertebrae of her spine as some part of her sensed that she was not alone.

"Where did that annoying…" she began only to be cut off by a mellifluous bout of laughter. She pushed herself onto her knees with her weak arms and glanced towards the source of the laughter, her liquid brown eyes fathomless.

"At least you know why she was born with those dreadful teeth, right Frex dearest?" the same voice drifted from up the winding stairs that led to the green woman's tower.

            "Yes, indeed, Melena. To protect herself from the water that eventually killed her! Imagine that! She couldn't talk as a baby, so she bit people instead! What awful logic the gods have!" Frex replied with a mirthless laugh.

            The green woman's pointed jaw dropped open at the sounds of the two very familiar voices. Confusion welled within her and muddled her thoughts, rendering her helpless to move once again. Moments later, two figures emerged at the top of the stairwell, a young, beautiful woman and a rather average-looking man with intelligent brown eyes.

            "Mother? Father?" the green woman asked with furrowed brows.

            "Elphaba, dear! How are you? We've been waiting for you," Melena gushed, rushing towards her daughter and engulfing her green child in her arms.

            Elphaba waited stiffly as Melena finished hugging her and then pulled away. The current situation baffled her beyond belief. Her mother had been dead since she was young and still susceptible to the wily ways of Madame Morrible at Shiz University.

            "You were never a very affectionate one…except with that tattooed hunter," Melena noted tactlessly and Elphaba tried not to wince at the mention of her lost love.

            Somehow though, she managed to find her voice, which scratched like a grasshopper's song.

            "What are YOU doing here?" she asked accusingly, eyeing her mother warily, unsure of what she was seeing. Had she taken some hallucinogen? Or perhaps Liir had finally become fed up with her and poisoned her food? He is a worthless knat, anyway, she thought, pushing thoughts of the fat boy out of her mind.

            Frex and Melena stared blankly at her before Melena burst out into a barking laughter that grated on Elphaba's nerves. Her father just paled, turning his pale skin ashen.

            "Well, you see, Fabala dear, I was wrong," he began, stepping forward and raising his arms as though he were ready to give a sermon.

            "You're almost always wrong," she said nastily, studying her father for signs of deceit. His features were different from the last time she'd seen him. He looked younger, more vitalic and less grey. But, other than that, she could see no ill-intent although it would have been more gratifying if she had. All her life she'd pined after her father's affections which he gladly showered…on his other daughter, the armless Nessarose.

Frex flinched, but refused to bow under Elphaba's tongue which was as sharp as the rest of her features. So he continued.

            "The otherworld exists, just as no one thought it did," he explained slowly, annunciating every word as he could see the disbelief spread across Elphaba's severe face.

            "Oh gods, have you found a new doctrine to rave over?" she said with exasperation, rolling her eyes and allowing a steely smirk to cross her thin lips.

            "Dear Elphaba, this is no doctrine. It's true. It's what you're living right at this very moment," Frex said in his best preacher's voice as he spread his arms wide open and took in the room with one sweeping glance.

            That was not the reply Elphaba had expected. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as two long fingers began to stroke her smooth green chin. Before she could reply, however, Melena cut in with her sing-songy voice.

            "Well, not exactly living, dear Frex," she said with a warm smile as she walked over to the forgotten black hat and picked it up, studying it with a frown.

            "What is that supposed to mean?" Elphaba demanded with no small amount of annoyance.

            Melena glanced up at her daughter, momentarily distracted from the ugliness of the hat.

            "It means that only your soul is here," Melena retorted with a roll of her eyes as though Elphaba had just gone mad.

            "Melena, my heart, she doesn't know that yet. Have patience," Frex gently scolded his wife although he was inwardly cringing at the intolerance in her voice. Patience and kindness were never Melena's best qualities.

            "My soul?" Elphaba asked stupidly.

            "No, your body!" Melena replied sharply, her tone laced with sarcasm. "But, that would be a bit impossible since you were just murdered by water."

            For once, Elphaba had not a word to say. Her pointed chin dropped as her mouth opened into a surprised 'o'.

            …you were just murdered by water…

            …you were just murdered by water…

            …you were just murdered by water…

            The last phrase repeated itself in Elphaba's mind like a broken record player. Despite the very specific word "murder", it did not occur to Elphaba that she could be dead. Staring at Frex for a long moment as though he'd just grown a second nose with an enormous wart, Elphaba struggled to make her tongue move. Then she burst out into laughter, clutching her stomach as though she'd just made a good joke at someone else's expense.

            "That's very funny you know. You almost had me fooled," she said between laughs while Frex and Melena looked on in perplexity.

            Eventually, her raucous laughter died down and she glanced up at her parents, who stood staring at her with pitying expressions. Elphaba straightened and met their stern gazes.

            "Okay," she said with annoyance after she's had enough of the staring contest. "Who put you up to this? Is this some kind of conspiracy? Who are you? What spell have you placed on yourselves? Are you trying to trick me? I'm not so easily fooled! You tell the Wizard that he can't send spies to kill me!"

            They didn't change their expressions nor did they move as she whirled around looking for her broomstick and the Grimmerie. They were no where to be found.

            "What did you do with them?!" Elphaba demanded, storming up to the two intruders and jabbing a pointed finger in their faces.

            "We did nothing with them, dear. You were always quick to jump to conclusions," Melena finally said, sounding bored as she studied how her cuticles were tearing.

            "It wasn't me!" Elphaba barked in her own defense. "Look at how people assume I'm a witch just because of my sister. 'There goes the Wicked Witch of the West', they say, believing whatever lies the Wizard tells them!"

            "But, you didn't do anything to change that opinion. You're proud of the title, don't deny it!" Melena retorted with venom. "Which is good 'cause you lived with it, and now you've died with it!"

            "What is this nonsense! I am NOT dead!" Elphaba shouted and then it became strangely silent as her parents stared at her again.

            "I'm not," she protested, this time softer as her raised arms floated down by her sides.

            Her parents still stared although this time one corner of Melena's mouth was twitching upwards into a smirk.

            "Am I?" Elphaba whispered in horror.

            "You are. Don't you remember Dorothy throwing water on you to extinguish the flames and your painful death?" Frex asked so casually you'd think they were talking about the latest gossip instead of death.

            "No," Elphaba said a bit too quickly. The memories flooded her mind, even as she spoke. Her skin crawled with the remember pain as the water ate through her skin.

            "But you do," Frex said gently, the kinder and more patient of her parents. He touched her arm gently and she jumped back.

            "Then, what is this? Why are YOU here? What sort of trick is this?" she asked, conspiracies forming in her mind as she became paranoid once again.

            "It's a middle ground for the soul," Melena said as though stating the obvious.

            Elphaba started at the word "soul".

            "But, I don't have a soul," she protested.

            "You must if you're here," Melena countered.

            "It's a trick," Elphaba said again, backing away from what she thought were two imposters.

            "It's not," a different voice said from behind them.

            Elphaba turned so quickly she nearly tripped on her long black skirts and she gasped when she saw the figure in the doorway.

            "You have a soul after all," the voice said as Elphaba fell to her knees.


	3. author's note

Ok, it's been nearly 10 months since I've written, I know. I'm horrible. But I just lost my inspiration. I'm about to read Wicked again to get the groove back and I'll update soon. I'm already formulating my thoughts! Sorry guys.

Lisa


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